


Vessel

by lionessvalenti



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Come as Lube, Large Cock, M/M, Masturbation, Outdoor Sex, Season/Series 03, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-21 20:36:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14292948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: Eliot wakes one morning to find Bucky Barnes in his dungeon, looking for a magician to help him in a land with no magic.





	Vessel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aurilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/gifts).



> The vessel, it will open like a lung to the air,  
> 'til you go and hold your breath --  
> I'm left fighting for air.  
> -Vessel, Declan Bennett

The stone was cold under Eliot's bare feet, and he wished he thought to put on shoes. He'd been woken only minutes before from a dead sleep: something about a disturbance in the castle, and a man from Earth demanding to see the High King detained in the dungeon. Eliot had dressed quickly, throwing on his silk robe and a pair of trousers, and brushed his teeth to wash the taste of sleep from his mouth, but he'd forgotten shoes.

He glanced in passing out a window, at the purple sky, promising dawn, but it was still far too early. No one had any reason to be awake at this hour, and Eliot tried to run his castle with those ideals. He had even told the kitchen staff to wait until the sun rose to start preparing breakfast, and to allow themselves to sleep in a little. To the best of his knowledge, they had ignored him, but at least he tried.

Outside of the dungeons, Margo was waiting for him. Unlike Eliot, half dressed and bleary-eyed, Margo looked impeccable. Her hair was styled in an ornate French braid, highlighting the beautiful details of her crown. She wore a red and yellow floral brocade gown, complete with a matching golden eye patch. Presumably, they had been alerted to the disturbance at the same time, and Eliot couldn't quite make the timing add up.

"Do you think I actually get to sleep in this place?" she asked before he could say a word. "Some of us do real work."

Eliot held up his hands. "I rescind any statement I didn't make. Did you get the details on this guy?"

Margo shrugged. "Just that he knocked out three guards in about ten seconds, and it took five more to subdue him and get him down here."

"Did he kill anyone?"

"I don't think so. But they're all going to be concussed and you know what the medical is like around here, so they may still die. Let's get this over with." Margo pulled open the heavy wooden door, and they walked into the dungeon together.

The dungeon wasn't full, but it was still a busy place. At that moment, most of the prisoners were asleep, so the lone awake man drew attention. He also drew attention because Eliot immediately recognized him as Bucky Barnes.

"Huh," Margo said.

"Took the words right out of my mouth." Eliot couldn't stop staring. Bucky seemed so much larger in real life, though broader than especially tall, actually a couple inches shorter than Eliot. He seemed like a brick wall, solid and unmovable. While Eliot could easily identify the face, Bucky didn't look like he did on TV with his dark clothes and low-riding baseball cap. He appeared to have been dressed in Fillory, with loose fitting tan linen trousers and a blue tunic, the left sleeve knotted just above where an elbow would have been. His hair was pulled up into a bun, the way Quentin sometimes wore his.

Bucky's gaze was set intently on Eliot. "You're the High King?"

"And you're the motherfucking Winter Soldier," Margo said, and that pulled Bucky from his staring contest with Eliot. He turned to her, his eyes no less intent as he took her in. Of the two, she was the more presentable and royal of them, and he seemed to recognize that. He lowered his head in a respectful nod to her.

"You can call me Bucky," he said, flashing a brief, humorless smile.

Margo's lips turned up with a little smirk. "How the hell did you get here?

"How does anyone get to Fillory?" Bucky asked, his hand wrapping around one of the bars that separated them. "Hidden doors and secret passageways. You can find them if you know where to look, but never when you're looking for them."

"Sounds legit," Margo said, just as Eliot said, "You've been here before."

Bucky nodded. "A long time ago. Longer than you can imagine."

"I can imagine a really long time," Eliot said dryly. "So, what, were you a king and now you want the throne? Because we can work something out. One of our queens died and came back, and I don't know if she still counts." He glanced over at Margo for confirmation, and she shrugged. Who knew what Alice was up to these days.

"No, I--" Bucky sighed. "I wasn't a king. I was just an apprentice. And I didn't mean to hurt any of your guards, but they wouldn't let me in. I couldn't wait until viewing hours. I know you're magicians. I need your help. I can pay."

"Earth money means nothing in the the Fillory global economy," Margo said.

Bucky shook his head. "Not money. Magic. A limited supply, but I think you both know a small amount of magic can change everything."

Eliot glanced at Margo. She raised her eyebrow. So, she wasn't sure, but it was worth investigating. Eliot agreed.

"Let's say we believe you," Eliot said. "What do you want in return?"

"I need a binding spell. I need to be bound to Fillory so it can't cast me out, and so the people on Earth who would try and use me as weapon can't find me. Even if there was enough magic to perform the spell, I can't do it alone."

Had these words come from the mouth of any other person, Eliot would have scoffed at them and told them to stop being such a drama queen. Bucky, however, made it sound not only reasonable, but from what Eliot knew of him (before spending most of his time in Fillory, he _had_ kept up with the news, despite contrary belief), it was probably accurate.

"Let him out," Eliot said, maintaining eye contact with Bucky. "Guards, escort him to the throne room. You, try not to maim anyone on the way." He turned and walked out of the dungeon, and started back for his room so he could dress properly.

"What the fuck?" Margo asked, as she hurried after him. She grabbed his arm and stopped him in the middle of the hall. "Are you actually believing this bullshit?"

"I don't think Hydra is coming for Fillory, if that's what you're asking me," Eliot replied. "But if he has access to a battery so we can get our hands on a little bit more magic, then I'm willing to hear him out. "

Margo released him and then took in his appearance with an annoyed sigh. "Go get dressed."

Eliot did just that, this time minding to wear his crown, the ultimate sign of authority. He went to the throne room, to find Margo and Bucky already there. Eliot took his seat alongside Margo. "Talk."

Bucky held his one arm behind his back. His body language was a little uncomfortable, like a kid making a public speech for the first time, but his expression revealed nothing. "I came to Fillory when I was young, and I was taken on by a magician who lived alone in the woods. He had an advanced spellbook, a family heirloom, all original spells. Some of them dark, some of them just difficult. There was one I remember, for pulling the energy of magic from the source and containing it into a vessel."

"From the wellspring?" Eliot asked. 

"From beyond the wellspring."

"What goes into this spell?" Margo asked, her eyes narrowed.

"I... I glanced at it half a century ago," Bucky said. "I remember there was chanting -- it was cooperative. It needed at least two people to power it. The spellbook, it still has to be in the magician's home. It's a three day ride from Whitespire. I need one of you to come with me to perform the ritual to obtain the magic, and after the binding, the rest of the magic would be yours. I just want a life of peace where Hydra and the US government can't find me."

A road trip was exactly what Eliot needed. The trail of keys had been dry for weeks, and the atmosphere at Whitespire was chalky, thanks to the abundance of fairies. There was no way they could keep any of this secret from the fairies, but they could send the batteries back to Earth, there'd be a stock of it somewhere. Of course there was the chance Bucky was lying, and this was some evil plot to murder the High King of Fillory, but even in the world they lived in, that seemed like a stretch.

Eliot looked over at Margo, who was already looking at him. It seemed almost an easy choice to him, but from their conversation earlier, he knew she was a bit more skeptical. She appeared mostly annoyed, so Eliot was surprised when she asked, "So, which one of us is going?"

Eliot half raised his hand. "I volunteer as tribute."

"Yeah, I thought you might." She sighed. "It's thin and contrived, but we can spare you for a week. We both know I'm better at your job than you are."

Eliot turned back to the Bucky, whose expression never changed. "I guess we're getting what we want."

It took a few hours before they were set to leave, with Bucky going to the kitchen to collect food for the journey, and Eliot going to pack a bag with clothes and personal items. Margo sat on the edge of the bed and watched him.

"Are you sure you don't want to take a royal guard with you?" she asked. For the first time all morning, she sounded less irritated and more apprehensive. However, the tapping of her fingernails against her knee told him her annoyance with the situation hadn't disappeared, it had just taken a temporary backseat to her concern. "He is a known killer, after all."

Eliot carefully folded a clean shirt before placing it in his satchel. He had changed out of his royal garb into travel-wear, a pair of jodhpurs, and a cotton button down. He'd already placed his crown in the bag, not wanting to wear it, but also wanting it close, just in case they ran into someone who questioned his authority. "I don't think I'll need it. He sounded desperate."

"Desperate people still kill people. Stop thinking with your dick, El. I know you want to bang a superhero, but those woods are full of sentient animals who will watch you have sex."

"Can you believe those words came out of your mouth and they made sense?" Eliot hadn't meant to change the subject as Margo had incredibly valid points up until then, but he couldn't help himself.

Margo snorted a laugh. "It blows my mind sometimes."

Eliot took her hands in his. "Bambi, I desperately want to go on this Avengers side plot, and who knows, maybe it will help us in the big picture. We know what a little magic can do. Let's get some."

She considered him for a long few seconds, before settling on, "Take your sunscreen. You look like a horror movie when your skin peels."

He brought on of her hand up to his mouth and kissed the back of it. "Thank you."

* * *

It was midday when they actually left Whitespire, Eliot and Bucky each on their own brown, thankfully non-verbal, horse. They both had supplies packed neatly on the back of their horses: more than a week's worth of non-perishable food for both them and the horses, their own bedrolls, and a thick tarp that could be propped up over them if it rained. Fold down tents were apparently not a thing in Fillory.

They rode in silence, Bucky keeping a few yards ahead of Eliot, and Eliot almost immediately grew so bored that he was reciting dialogue from full episodes of Buffy in his mind. It was almost like watching TV, but sadder and hotter, sweat already forming under his arms from the Fillorian summer.

No words were spoken between them until they stopped, hours later, at a stream to refill the canteens and water the horses. No longer able to stand the monotony, Eliot asked, "So a magician's apprentice, huh? Are you a magician?"

Bucky, who was kneeling over the stream, swallowed the cupped handful of water he'd collected and looked up at Eliot. "No formal training. What I did here wasn't even formal. When I went back, I convinced myself that it had been a dream. I locked it away for a long time."

"But you could still do magic on Earth."

"I didn't try. I didn't talk about it. I forgot. Until..."

"Until?"

Bucky stood up and faced Eliot properly. "What do you know about me? What weird little rumors have you heard?"

It felt like a test, and Eliot didn't know the answers, so he went with the truth. "You were a war hero, Captain America's best friend, and you were an assassin for Hydra. You're unstable and a flight risk."

Bucky tilted his head just slightly to one side. "But you don't believe that."

"What makes you say that?" Eliot clutching his canteen to his chest like it could protect him from attack. The vague notion he had hours before of this being fun dissipated. 

"You're here. Alone with me. When I killed people, I killed people like you. Political leaders. And you had to have known that, too. But for some reason, you trusted me. Why?"

Eliot chewed at the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. "You're here looking for a second chance. The reason I agreed to be High King was because that's what I needed. I was going kill myself if I kept on that path. Fillory saved me. Maybe it can save you, too."

Bucky contemplated him carefully. "Let's get back on the road. I'll tell you the truth."

This time, Bucky stayed within hearing distance of Eliot as they rode, not speaking too loudly, as not to be overheard by any nosy squirrels.

"When I was captured by Hydra, they erased my mind completely. They took away everything that made me and replaced it with an assassin who worked on their orders. There wasn't any part of, not only me left, but anyone. I was a blank slate, and any time I got too close to being anything other than that, they wiped my mind again."

"Jesus," Eliot muttered. He sort of knew some of this, or at least some similar theories, but hearing it from Bucky's mouth, in his own words, it was different. It wasn't speculation anymore.

Bucky nodded. "When I came back to myself, I remembered everything. Everything. Fillory was part of that, and I knew it was real. All the... the triggers in my head, they weren't gone. Anyone who knew the words to unlock the Winter Soldier, they still could. I wanted to come where they couldn't find me."

Eliot felt a pang of guilt as his first thought was the huge liability Bucky just become for Fillory by being there. Sure, it was unlikely that no one would follow him here, but it was also not impossible. If Bucky was bound to Fillory, then so was the Winter Soldier.

"I just want a life of peace," Bucky continued, echoing his words from earlier in the day. "I know Fillory is a dangerous place, but maybe here I can find some absolution."

There wasn't much Eliot could say to follow up to that. "I hope you do -- find what you're looking for."

One corner of Bucky's lip twitched upwards into a ghost of a smile.

It wasn't until later, almost dusk, that Eliot asked, "When you said you remembered everything. Do you remember what the Winter Soldier did, too?"

Bucky's face went hard, and he stared straight ahead, as not to catch any glimpse of Eliot in his peripheral vision. "I remember all of it."

* * *

The black night sky was fading into a deep purple when Bucky put out the remains of the fire from the night before. Eliot stirred from the sulfuric scent and after slowly opened his eyes. 

It took him a few moments to remember where he was, why he was lying on the ground, and the memories of camp from the night before. If Eliot had been starstruck by Bucky at Whitespire, he was past it. Maybe it was the honesty of Bucky's confession, or simply getting used to having such a well known figure at his side, but as they sat around the fire Bucky built, Eliot decided that Bucky wasn't worth getting worked up over.

Sleepily, he wanted to complain, to insist on waiting until at least dawn to move on, but instead, he turned onto one side and watched as Bucky began to tear down the camp. It wasn't much, just putting away his bedroll, packed army-issue tight, and getting the remains of the food down from where he'd hung it in the tree.

The events weren't particularly interesting, but Bucky's shirtlessness was. He could have sold tickets to the show of the muscles in his back tensing and releasing as he retrieved the food pack, and then a whole other ticket to look at his abs. They weren't eight-pack, underwear model defined, but were solid and present, like someone who did real work, and not just reps in a gym.

Eliot should have looked away, reminding himself to not get worked up, like he'd thought last night. He was getting way too turned on and in a few minutes, he'd have to get on a horse. That wouldn't make for the world's most uncomfortable ride or anything. But instead, he kept watching, observing the way Bucky used what little remained of his left arm to brace whatever he was holding and used his right hand for the knots and the details. There was no sign of the famous metal arm, but there was scarring from where it had been.

Finally sensing Eliot's gaze (or more likely, finally acknowledging it,), Bucky glanced over at him.

"Morning," Eliot said, his voice thick with sleep.

"Morning," Bucky replied, and probably about as amiable as Eliot should expect him to be. "We should head out as soon as it's light enough. We can make up the half day yesterday if we ride hard."

"Right," Eliot said. He got up from his own bedroll and shivered. Without the fire and his blanket, the cool of the morning was a shock to his own bare skin. He grabbed his shirt and after shaking out the potential bugs and snakes, he pulled it on. It wasn't much better, but it helped. "I'll just, uh, be..." He motioned to the thicket of trees where he might find more privacy.

Bucky nodded, the dark hair brushing against his cheek.

Eliot grabbed the leather satchel containing his personal items and took several long strides into the woods. It grew darker as he walked deeper into the forest, until he was relying more on the outstretched hands in front of him than his eyes. He paused to sniff the air, and once the smell of campfire was gone, he leaned against the nearest large tree and pulled out his fully hard cock. He needed to pee, but after Bucky's skin show, there was no way he could manage it. One thing at a time.

His hands were still warm from the body heat generated beneath his blanket, and he tried to make quick work of it. If he could manage just a simple, thoughtless wank, then it'd be easier to get through the day, but he as he rubbed his thumb over the tip, his thoughts flashed to Bucky. Bucky's back muscles. His hip bones jutting out from the top of his linen trousers. His mouth biting into a plum, and the juice running down his chin, shining in the firelight. What it would be like if it were Bucky's hand wrapped around Eliot's cock right now, and Bucky's warm breath on his neck.

Eliot bit his lip, the pain of it spiking another shock of arousal throughout his body. He moaned, louder than he would have wanted, disrupting some nearby birds. Shit, they were probably watching as well as they could in the dark, but at the same time Eliot didn't care. His orgasm was building, and when he could practically feel the fantasy Bucky's lips on his ear, urging him to come, and Eliot did.

The post-orgasmic glow didn't last long, the release finally allowing Eliot to take the desperately needed piss. He did what needed to be done, and then retrieved the travel sized bottle of hand sanitizer out of his bag. There were some Earth comforts one couldn't take a three day trip through the woods without. Especially if there was going to be necessary, surprise masturbation.

He brushed his teeth in the dark and picked his fingers through his hair until it seemed like it was manageable for a day on horseback, and headed back into the direction of the campsite feeling slightly renewed. 

With each step, the path grew lighter, and the purple sky was now streaked with pink. Sadly, once he had returned, Eliot saw that Bucky had put on his tunic. However, now, Bucky's hand (and his incredibly powerful looking forearm) were enough to set Eliot's fantasies on fire.

"I packed up your bedroll," Bucky said. "You don't mind?"

Eliot hadn't even noticed, but sure enough, his roll was strapped to the back of his horse, along with some of the supplies, and it was all packed far neater than Eliot could have managed.

"It's great. When I was just living on Earth, I thought people should be doing things for me without me asking them to, or at least not bitching about it when they did, and now that I'm High King, people just do those things for me now." Eliot hesitated, the implications of the statement dawning on him. "But you don't _have_ to do them."

"I'll do the things I can do better. How does that sound?" Bucky mounted his horse with incredible ease, especially for a guy with only one hand. Eliot knew that Bucky was from Brooklyn, and they had trucks in World War II, so how did he get so good at riding horses?

Eliot smiled. "Sounds perfect."

They rode in silence as Eliot dozed off, lulled by the rhythmic beat of his horse's gait until the sun was up fully, and the chill turned to warmth. Eliot applied a layer of sunscreen and pulled open his shirt as the sun rose higher. They stopped at a stream to refill their canteens, and have a quick lunch of dried meat, fruit leather, and bread.

This time, when they mounted, Eliot took his opportunity to ask his latest burning question (that didn't have anything to do with whether or not Bucky wanted to pause their journey for a quick fuck in the woods).

"Where'd you learn to ride a horse?" Eliot raised his eyebrows when Bucky glanced over at him with surprise. "Not a lot of rodeos in Brooklyn."

At that, Bucky smiled. "No, I learned to ride here. That was a lifetime ago, but it's like riding a bike."

"A living, breathing bike," Eliot agreed. "At least you learned on horses who understood what you were doing. I learned on the world's most skittish, non-sentient horse."

"Was the horse skittish, or were you?"

Eliot paused. "Both, I guess. My dad picked the horse for me, and I think he wanted to make it as tough on me as possible. Before it was so obvious how fabulous I was, he did a lot of shit because he thought I was weak. That if he could just beat that sparkle out of me, I could be..."

"What? Straight?"

Eliot, who hadn't quite realized how far off subject he'd gotten, started at the question.

Bucky smiled again. He had this way of smiling not so much with his mouth, just turning up the corners of his lips, but smiling with his eyes, bright with humor. "I may be old, but I've lived a lifetime. You're not shocking."

"That's a disappointment. I love to be shocking," Eliot replied, but there was a little thrum of pleasure at Bucky's correct assessment.

"But you have a wife."

Eliot swallowed, the pleasure dissipating. He glanced down at his wedding ring and nodded. "It's a bargain marriage. We got what we needed, and they got a royal in the family. Fen. She's great."

And she was. Eliot liked her. He maybe even loved her. If they hadn't been married, he wasn't sure if they were people who would have ever been friends, but he was glad that they were. Friends, at least. Everything that went with the marriage made it more complicated. She was a sweet girl, she deserved more than what she got from him, and when he told her as much, she agreed.

"We aren't... compatible," Eliot said, when Bucky said nothing. "The one good part to no magic is that the magic that keeps us faithful doesn't exist anymore. It's better for us this way. We get to be friends, and sometimes I get to impregnate her."

Bucky nodded. "How many children do you have?"

Eliot's jaw set. He'd meant it as a quip, a little antidote to show that while the marriage was political, it wasn't without affection. It wasn't a total sham, even when in so many ways it was. When he thought of Fen (as he sometimes forgot about her altogether), he did feel the urge to defend her, and her place in his life. But the question, Eliot was surprised at how much it hurt to hear. He never felt the way about the baby that Fen had, never having even seen the child, but to be asked, so point blank, it was like a little stab.

"That's a more complicated question than it should be," Eliot said hoarsely.

Instead of asking for clarification, Bucky seemed to understand. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," Eliot mumbled. They fell into silence, and remained that way for several miles. It wasn't uncomfortable. They simply no longer had anything else to say.

It wasn't until they took an evening break that the conversation resumed. It was still hours until nightfall, but the horses needed to rest and be watered, and Eliot was sure he was getting chafing on his inner thighs, a rarity for his wiry frame. When he mentioned it, Bucky reached into his own satchel and retrieved a white tube of ointment.

"This should help," he said, handing it over.

"Thank you," Eliot replied and then hesitated as he considered the best way to apply the ointment with dignity. He could scurry off into the woods like he had in the morning, but since he wasn't bearing an impossibly stubborn erection, he instead opted to just shimmy out of his trousers and work as quickly as possible. Fillorian clothes were generally worn without underwear, so he let everything get some fresh air for a few seconds. He first tried to imagine it like a locker room, or a communal shower, where everyone looked and tried not to get caught.

When he finished, and was hitching his trousers back up over his hips, he caught a glance at Bucky -- who had definitely been looking. It was the quick turn of his head just as Eliot looked up that gave him away.

With renewed smugness, Eliot gave the ointment back to Bucky. "What else is in that bag?"

"Supplies," Bucky replied. "Some things they just don't have in Fillory, and I'm planning on staying awhile. I know you understand."

Eliot's thoughts briefly went to the sunscreen and hand sanitizer he'd used just today, not to mention the breath mints, moisturizer, and Vaseline, among other things, that rattled around in his bag. He got it.

"This binding spell..." Eliot said slowly. "Is it indefinite? Permanent?"

"Indefinite. But I don't think there's a place for me on Earth anymore, not one where people are safe. And time moves faster here." He smiled, but this time, it didn't quite reach his eyes. It was more like a habit of a smile, a sardonic ghost of something else. "I'll be an old man before I get back."

Eliot furrowed his brow. "But your thing with Captain America. I mean, you'd come if he needed you, right? We've read a lot of the stories. Isn't that what all of this was about? Fighting for each other or something?"

Bucky shook his head. "No, Steve won't be looking for me, at least not on Earth. I told him where I was going, that I intended to stay and why I needed to do it. He understood. He didn't like it, he tried to convince me to stay, but eventually. He understood."

"He understood that you were going to a fairy tale land out of a book?"

This time, Bucky's smile was real, but it was sad. "He knows about Fillory. When I came here the first time? Steve was with me."

"Captain America was in Fillory? That's like a franchise crossover."

Bucky blinked, apparently not quite understanding the reference, but he shrugged before mounting his horse. "He wasn't Captain America then. Just a sick little kid who found a doorway to another world with his best friend."

"Had you read the books?" Eliot asked, as he also mounted the horse, wincing only slightly over his sore thighs. "When you got here, did you know where you were?"

"I'd never even heard of them, the books," Bucky replied, after a few minutes of adjusting the pace of the trail and the rhythm of the horses. "You have to remember, they were still new then, and we couldn't afford new books. If the library didn't have it in, we didn't read it. I read them later, when we were older, before we left for the war. At that point, Steve and I hadn't talked about Fillory in years. We acted like it hadn't even happened, like it was a game we imagined so well we thought it was real, but then realized it wasn't."

Eliot pursed his lips as a silence came between them. He thought of Quentin, and how learning that Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes had been in Fillory, presumably, the same time as the Chatwins would blow his mind, and how he'd have a million questions for Bucky about it. Eliot, on the other hand, didn't give a shit about the Chatwins outside of how their lives affected his, and even if he did, the odds of them interacting were next to nothing. Fillory was a big place.

"What was it like?" Eliot asked a few minutes later. "Reading some weird bastardization of your childhood?"

"It was certainly a lot cuter in the books," Bucky replied. "All the magical whimsy wasn't really my experience. I did learn magic, but not like that."

"Was -- Steve a magician too?" It was weird calling Captain America _Steve_ , so casually, like they were friends, but it was also getting ridiculous to keep saying his superhero title.

Bucky didn't seem to notice the change or even the awkwardness of it for Eliot. "When we came to Fillory, we were eleven. Steve looked like he was about eight, he was so small. He was sick all the time, half blind, but the magic here, it... it helped him. He could see better and he was stronger. Still small, but he could function like a regular kid. I think it took all the magic Fillory had to offer just to get him there. I remember him doing some simple stuff, but most people can if they know the mechanics. I was the one who was taken on as the apprentice. But even Abernathy knew Steve and I were pair."

"Why'd you leave?" Eliot asked.

Bucky stared straight ahead. "You have to know that sometimes Fillory decides it's time to turn you out. It turned me out. Steve came with me, because that's who he is, even then." He looked over at Eliot. "That's why I need the binding. I can't risk Fillory turning me out again, not when the stakes are this high."

"It didn't turn him out, too?"

"No. I think doors to Fillory have been opening to Steve his whole life, whether he sees them or not. He's not perfect, believe me, he's a stubborn son of a--" Bucky cut himself off with a chuckle, before continuing. "But he's so completely good. He sees it in everyone when he can. He saw it in Fillory, and Fillory saw it in him. He doesn't need to do magic."

The strangest part of that little speech was the tinge of bitterness in Bucky's voice. Was it directed at Fillory? At Steve? Or at himself, for not being any of those things? Eliot wanted to reach over and take Bucky's hand, but their horses were too far apart for that to be a natural move. Eliot wasn't sure where the urge to comfort was coming from, that wasn't his style, but like any other road trip, being confined together could make anyone act out of character.

"Did you ever do it with Captain America?" 

The question tumbled out of Eliot's mouth before he even considered it. It had been a very heated topic one night in his first year at Brakebills, a drunken ruckus between himself, Margo, and few less attractive classmates. They had wildly debated Captain America's sexual preferences, and while Eliot and Margo both on the side of bi, but probably with a general preference for women and Bucky Barnes, others insisted there was no way Captain America was gay. One debater was absolutely positive that Cap's 1940s origin made him assuredly heterosexual, but no one could argue Eliot's point when he loudly asked if they thought homosexuality magically appeared in 1973.

Bucky's shoulders tensed, as he didn't look away from the path ahead of him. 

"I mean, he's... kinda beefy," Eliot said, as though the addendum would help. As it was, a flush began to build at the back of his neck. He'd all but taught himself not to blush, to not even be embarrassed. When something was embarrassing, he could always turn to a cocktail, but something had changed. The same thing that made him want to hold Bucky's hand, quite probably.

Now, Bucky turned to look at him, his brows furrowed and his mouth twisted in a way like he was trying not to laugh. Finally, his mouth split open into a grin, a glowing amusement in his eyes. "He wasn't beefy then."

Eliot's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"We were kids, we messed around." A more serious look crossed Bucky's face, as he added, "Anything more than that would have been committing to something."

"Like what?" Eliot asked.

"Choices you couldn't come back from. We wanted to fight, and it's not like we... I can't speak for Steve, but it would have been nice to have a girl back at home. Not that anything would have come of it. If there'd ever been anything else besides kid's stuff, you know, it would have been the end of everything. We wouldn't be here now. I had a lot of respect for those who could put themselves out there. Not that I..."

Eliot frowned as Bucky trailed off. There was something else there, and he desperately needed to know what it was. "You wouldn't what?" he asked, trying not to push too hard, but probably failing because Eliot always pushed too hard. He had no delicate touch.

Bucky didn't look at Eliot. "I wouldn't have done it, even if I hadn't gone to war. I'd have lived my quiet lie. You wouldn't understand. There was too much at stake then."

For a moment, Bucky was right, that Eliot didn't understand what he was saying. Yes, he understood that it would have been tough, but he'd seen the cute vintage pictures on the internet. Gays could live a happy life. But then again, what would he have done, queer in the 1940s? What was the cost for living authentically? Would he have been able to tamp it down? He'd worked so hard to cultivate his image, to hide only his past, not the person he was now. If he had lived then, would he have been ostracized? Or worse? There was no way to judge their choices, as Eliot couldn't be sure he wouldn't have made the same ones.

"We should make camp," Bucky said after a few minutes of silence. "It'll be dark soon."

And the conversation was over.

That night, after they'd eaten, and the small fire Bucky had built was down to crackling embers, Eliot lay in his bedroll and tried to dispel the images in his mind of Bucky sucking off a present day Steve Rogers. It was an easy fantasy to churn up, both of them incredibly attractive and enough history to have their own exhibit at the Smithsonian, but it also made him uneasy. This sort of thing, the debate with his classmates, it was cute and a good time when they were discussing these larger than life figures that tore down skyscrapers as they saved the world, but now Bucky was somehow more real, right there the whole time.

It was not, however, satisfying. Only a few feet away from where Bucky slept, Eliot could hardly mastubate, so he instead cursed his imagintion, and his insistent erection, and tried to sleep. But sleep was pitiful, and the ground seemed so much harder than it had before. He reminded himself that blue balls would not kill him or give him cancer, or any of the other lies guys used to get sex, but that didn't stop him from being massively uncomfortable.

The morning came far too soon, and Eliot's mind was thick with fog. It was like a hangover, but without the headache, and twice the amount of forgetfulness and exhaustion. He stumbled around the campsite, even once stepping in the fire that, thankfully, only singed the cuff of his pants. He tried to ignore Bucky, who was at least dressed this morning as he tore down the camp, but it was impossible to ignore the only other person in a hundred miles.

Bucky, it turned out, wasn't feeling much better, though his distractions were of a more practical nature. If Eliot hadn't been so tired, he may have noticed the change, but as it was, Eliot was more focused on staying awake and not looking at Bucky.

Eliot slung his satchel over his neck, letting the bag rest on his hip. He motioned to the woods. "I'm gonna..."

"Wait," Bucky said. His voice was rough with sleep, having not spoken a word all morning.

Eliot turned to him, fully aware that he had no brushed his teeth yet, and if this was the moment Bucky was going to make a move, it was a bad one, but he wasn't going to _stop_ him. "Yeah?"

But Bucky wasn't looking at him. His eyes were on the shade darkened trees above Eliot's head. "We're not alone here."

As if on cue, or perhaps knowing they had been heard, two arrows shot out of the trees. None of them hit, each landing in the ground, before five men came out of the thick of the woods, two with bows drawn, two with small knives, and a third carrying a broadsword.

Ostentatious, Eliot thought, eyeing the sword with a sleepy disdain that hadn't quite registered that their lives were in danger. Neither he nor Bucky carried any weapons. They had no way to defend themselves from these men.

"Hand over your gold," said the man with the sword.

"We have none," Bucky replied, holding up his hand, as if he could soothe thieves like he would a spooked horse. "We're just travelers."

"Your horses bear a royal seal," Sword said. "You're carrying goods from Whitespire, are you not?"

Eliot looked over at Bucky, like he could get some sort of instruction, but he didn't know Bucky nearly well enough to read him like he could Margo, so if Bucky was trying to tell him something, he wasn't seeing it.

"We borrowed them from the High King," Bucky said. There was a little lilt in his tone as he said _borrowed_.

Okay, that was the game they were playing. Eliot could play that game.

Sword smirked. "Then you have other goods. Empty your bags."

"We aren't going to do that," Bucky said.

The smirk dropped from Sword's face. He charged Bucky, the tip of the sword approaching Bucky's throat. "I will not spare you."

Bucky still had his hand raised, all of his body language reading calm, but his eyes were dark. "Go, and take your men before things have to get violent."

This time, Sword laughed, and the rest of the men joined him. One even lowered his bow as he did so. "What does a one armed man and a mute have against five men? I'll take my chances. Now, empty your bag, or would you prefer--?" He turned away from Bucky, swinging the broadsword wildly, so he came at Eliot's throat. Eliot took a step back, only to find one of the men with knives was behind him.

What happened next, Eliot wasn't entirely sure. It happened all so quickly that he could only register it in flashes: Bucky stabbing a man in the arm with his own arrow, Bucky kicking a man in the chest so hard he went unconscious, Bucky grabbing one of the archers around the neck.

That was when Eliot was elbowed in the face. He couldn't have said who did it, but it didn't matter. His vision went white and he went down. In the scrimmage, he was stepped on and kicked, and while he tried to protect his face from more damage, he heard the unmistakable snap of bones breaking.

The sound of fighting stopped, and someone yelled, but Eliot was so caught up in not getting injured anymore, he couldn't quite make it out what the words were. He stayed curled up in a ball until he felt a hand rest on his back.

"They're gone," Bucky said hoarsely.

Eliot dared to look up. The horses were gone, and all that remained was a body on the ground. It was one of the men with the knives, his neck twisted at an impossible angle. "Shit."

"Let me look at--" Bucky reached for Eliot's face, but Eliot pulled back before the contact could be made.

"I've got it," he mumbled, hastily wiping his chin with the back of his hand. It stung, and his hand came away with a bright red streak of blood.

Bucky stared at him with a vacant look that was both stunned and broody at the same time. "Haven't you seen me kill before? On the news? The internet?"

Eliot hadn't meant to react that way, it was an instinct, maybe, to not be touched by a man who had just killed someone, even he had done it to protect Eliot. He instantly softened at Bucky's words. "No. I hate it when the videos on articles start streaming automatically, so I refuse to watch them. If there's a video out there of you killing someone I haven't seen it."

"There's a lot of them out there," Bucky said, still not meeting Eliot's gaze. A bruise was blooming under his left eye. "Security footage mostly, a few caught on cell phones."

Eliot closed his eyes briefly, still seeing stars when he did. "You may have me up on numbers, but you're not the only one here who's killed people."

Now, Bucky looked at him, but he didn't say anything.

"A kid when I was fourteen. A bully who... deserved to be punished, but not to die. And then, a guy I was seeing. He was possessed, he was going to kill someone else, he already had, and I stopped him. Being told it was the right thing to do made it worse. It didn't make me feel _noble_. It didn't matter who I saved, it... I shared myself with him and then I killed him." Eliot stood up, a little dizzy from the blow and the emotion.

"I'm sorry," Bucky said, "that you went through that."

"Me too." Eliot reached his hand out to Bucky, who took it, allowing Eliot to help him to his feet. He probably didn't need the help, but he took it anyway. "What did they get beside the horses?"

"I'd already packed up half the food, and my bedroll. So, we have whatever food is left, and what we have in our bags."

Eliot nodded toward the body. "And what about him?"

"They'll come back for him, or scavengers will eat him," Bucky replied, no emotion or remorse in his voice. "Let's go. It's going to take twice as long on foot."

Bucky strapped the foodpack and Eliot's bedroll to his back, while Eliot carried his satchel alone. They started walking.

* * *

Eliot was exhausted. His head buzzed from the blow hours before, and his lips, as much as he kept them coated in chapstick, stung from the split lip he'd received. He thought he once knew what tired was, that his body had been pushed to the brink by hangovers and sex marathons, but it was nothing compared to this. He found new places on his body to ache with every step, his legs screaming at him to stop, but he kept going. It was going to be worth it.

All of this was magnified by the fact that Bucky was perfectly fine. The bruises on his face had faded in hours, and the more they hiked, the more energized he seemed to be by it. It was a stroll for a super soldier, held back by his mere mortal companion. Bucky looked perfect, while Eliot had sweat pouring from places he didn't even realize he could sweat, leaving his clothes damp and heavy.

Now they were getting into a place where the paths were gone and there was only Bucky's memory from like eighty years ago to guide them to the very reclusive cottage. Eliot didn't mind that as much, he was familiar with the Fillorian homes in the middle of nowhere, but with his aching back and thighs, and no flat surface, he began stumbling over fallen branches and stones, until he tripped over his own dragging feet. He fell, but not without first trying to grab ahold of the nearest tree to keep himself upright, but only succeeding in scraping his face on the bark before landing on the hard dirt floor.

"Eliot!" Bucky's warm presence was next to him in a flash. He reached down and helped Eliot into a sitting position, guiding him gently toward the tree to lean against. "What happened? You're bleeding again."

"Am I?" Eliot asked, a little dazed and dizzy.

"Drink this," Bucky said, pressing his canteen into Eliot's hand. He waited until Eliot had a few swallows of water down before continuing, "You should have told me you needed a break."

Eliot shook his head. "I just want to get there."

"We'll never get there if you're exhausted."

"You're not exhausted."

Bucky's expression was stoic. "I'm a product of science. I was altered not to tired out, to keep going and finish the mission. You're still human."

Eliot took another drink of water. "So are you."

Bucky held his gaze for a long moment before looking down into his bag. He retrieved a first aid kit and carefully cleaned Eliot's face before topping the scrape with a bandage. As he pulled his hand away, Eliot reached up and grabbed it, letting Bucky's fingers rest against his cheek. He hadn't intended do it, his hand working of its own accord, but the second it was done, Eliot was glad he had. At this close proximity, Eliot heard Bucky's breath hitch at the contact.

"Whatever they did to you, you're still you. I've been seeing you for days."

"You sound like Steve," Bucky said not pulling away, but relaxing his hand against the plane of Eliot's face. "But you don't know everything I've done."

"I know what you've done for me," Eliot replied. He wanted to propel himself forward and kiss Bucky right there, but he couldn't quite muster the energy for it. Instead, he reveled in the feeling of Bucky's touch. There was something underneath all the layers of strength and stamina, a capacity for gentleness and compassion that was pouring out of him.

It was too much. The depth of Bucky's intensity, the incredible presence of him this close, the possibility of what could be, it all took Eliot back a step. Eliot released Bucky's hand and crossed his arms over his midsection. "I can probably keep going now."

Bucky stood and shook his head. "Give it another five minutes. Have another drink." He turned and walked a few steps away, sticks snapping beneath each footfall.

Eliot dropped his head. Regret twisted in his stomach. "Fuck."

If he had magic, Eliot knew a spell to give him a flash, just a few seconds, of the inside of Bucky's mind. It wasn't much, but it would have been long enough to know how Bucky felt. Without magic, Eliot just had to wonder if these intense moments actually meant something, and hope that every time he tried to push Bucky away, he wasn't actually pushing him away.

When they started again, they walked in silence, but Bucky didn't stray so far ahead, keeping Eliot in a ten foot radius of himself. Now, when Eliot stumbled, Bucky's hand was there at his back or his arm to keep him steady. Eliot had no doubts that if he fell again, Bucky would be there to catch him.

Eliot had no way of knowing how close they were, especially now that they were on foot. Time was an illusion. His pain was a constant. He sweated off the bandage and wasn't even concerned about facial scarring. He kept his head down and he walked, and finally he stumbled, but this time right into Bucky, who had stopped.

"Are we there?" Eliot asked, though it was a stupid question. They wouldn't have even been there if they'd been riding.

"Water," Bucky said, and he turned a bit, moving them off their dead west path and into the north.

Eliot followed him, though he couldn't hear any running water, and it took another twenty minutes of walking before he could. When they reached the spring, Eliot dropped to his knees in front of it and drank deeply. The water in the canteens was fine, but nothing compared to the fresh, cool water directly from the source. Next to him, Bucky did the same thing.

"I know this place," Bucky said, sitting back on his knees. He wiped the water from his mouth with the back of his hand, a droplet still clinging to the scruff of on his chin. "Steve and I used to ride out here on hot days and swim. We're closer than I thought."

"How close?" Eliot asked. He was still bent over the stream, but his gaze was on Bucky.

"We can make camp now and be there by the afternoon," Bucky replied.

"If we keep going we can be there by morning."

Bucky shook his head. "And you'll be too tired to cast. But we should go downstream."

Eliot wasn't going to fight him further on the making camp part. He knew he needed to get _real_ rest, and a stream was a fine enough place for it. "Why not here?"

To Eliot's surprise, Bucky grinned. "Come on."

"I really hate surprises," Eliot grumbled, but got up and followed Bucky. They followed the stream, and Bucky seemed more excited with each step, but he never strayed too far ahead. With the way the light filtered through the leaves, and Bucky's joy, Fillory never felt more like a fairy tale, and Eliot wouldn't have been shocked to find he'd been lead to a house made of candy.

There was no house and no candy, but something even better: a hot spring. It was separate from the rest of the water, a large pond of dark water that seemed set to simmer, with steam rising from it. The surrounding plants, ferns with huge shiny leaves, seemed to give the illusion of privacy, though the lack of any other people since they ran into the thieves offered more, actual, privacy.

"And for the not-so-hot days," Bucky said. He had already dropped his pack and satchel and was pulling at his shirt. He glanced over at Eliot who did nothing. "It'll be good for you."

Eliot wasn't entirely sure why he hesitated. He'd never been in a hot spring, but he'd spent plenty of time sharing hot tubs with Bambi and a handful of nameless hot bisexuals they could get drunk with and later fuck. It was an epicenter for debauchery, and not one meant to be shared alone with your wild card crush.

But Bucky was right. The hot water would soothe Eliot's tired muscles, and wash away the layers of sweat and grime he'd built up over the journey, the splash bath he'd had in cold water a day earlier suddenly seeming like years ago. He followed Bucky's cue and began to strip, his arms protesting as he pulled his shirt up over his head. He tossed it next to his own satchel and before he could reach for his belt, he caught Bucky just as he released his own trousers. They dropped to the ground and Bucky was completely naked. Eliot didn't even care as he openly gaped.

If Bucky from the waist up had been a show, from the waist down he was a goddamn gift. He was a shower, his cock hanging heavy and low, swinging between his legs as he walked into the hot spring. His legs were muscular and strong, and his ass seemed to be carved out of marble. He was a perfect specimen of a human being. It didn't matter how much of that was Bucky from before, and how much of it was whatever Hydra had done to him -- it was all him now, and he was immaculate. 

He was about knee-high in the water when he turned around to face Eliot. "Do you need help?"

Eliot had to tear his gaze away from that cock to look at Bucky's also very nice face. He shook his head. "No, I'm just making sure the water doesn't boil you alive."

Bucky smiled. "The water's great."

"Good then, uh..." Eliot tugged open his belt and let his pants drop around his ankles. There was no hiding behind horses, or running into the woods. He could hardly feel self conscious, clutching at his pearls, as Bucky did to him what exactly what he'd done just moments before: unabashedly staring. He held his head high as he started toward the spring. He may not look his best right now, but he always looked good.

The water was hot, in that almost too hot sort of way that was also perfect. The heat that only covered Eliot's feet seemed to rise up throughout his body, flushing his skin.

Bucky reached up and took Eliot's hand, holding him steady as he took another step, this time onto slippery stone. "There's a drop-off in about two steps," Bucky warned, now thigh high in the water. "And then past that, there's another one after a few steps, and that's where the hot spring gets deep."

Eliot moved further in, and ready for the drop-off, sunk into the water, letting the warmth envelope him as he dunked about chest deep. He released Bucky's hand and groaned in a rather orgasmic manner. It hadn't been cold in Fillory, but now warm, Eliot realized he'd been freezing for days. 

The spring was more than just deep, it seemed bottomless, Eliot unable to feel the floor even with the water up to his shoulders, but there were several smooth rocks jutting out from the far side that formed natural seats. Other than the depth, it wasn't unlike the hot tubs of his past.

"My next expensive decree is hot springs all around Fillory," Eliot said, leaning back to allow the back of his head to touch the warm surface. The muscles in his shoulders already seemed looser and it hadn't even been five minutes. "Margo would love it. Hot baths no matter where she was in the country. We'd have to get one for the castle, too."

"That would be a lot of plumbing," Bucky replied.

"Worth it," Eliot said. He brought himself upright again, and looked over at Bucky who was treading water about three feet away."This is one of the places you came when you were a kid, right?"

Bucky nodded. "There was a branch that hung down and I used to swing into the water that way. Steve couldn't really swim, so he never went past that first drop-off, but he was so small then, it was fine."

Eliot had seen pictures of what good ol' Captain America had looked like before the super serum, but it still difficult to connect that image, and imagine him even smaller and younger, to the strapping super hero he saw on the news today.

"Thanks for bringing me here," Eliot said, and then turned away. God, it was the second time today he couldn't stand the idea of intimacy, and did exactly the opposite of what he wanted. He wasn't physically close to Bucky this time, and the idea of being any closer to him was fucking terrifying. He hated being this emotionally stunted, but he didn't know any other way. Nearly every other guy he'd been into, it was fucking first, then feelings later. The tension building in Eliot's chest was almost too much to bear. He could explode at any second.

"Sometimes Fillory can be beautiful," Bucky said, his voice right behind Eliot. He rested his hand on Eliot's shoulder and began kneading at the knots with his thumb.

"It has its moments," Eliot replied breathlessly. His back arched as Bucky pressed into a particularly tight spot. "Right there."

One of Bucky's legs came up against Eliot's thigh, and Eliot leaned into it. He let Bucky cradle him in the water and keep him from floating away. Bucky's fingers traced the outline of Eliot's shoulder blade. "I didn't think it was going to be like this," he said.

Eliot swallowed. Arousal coursed through him, his heart jackhammering against his chest, and his cock, hard and throbbing tried to distract him. He turned his head just far enough to catch a glimpse of Bucky's face. "Like what?"

Bucky moved his hand down the length of Eliot's back, pressing hard into the skin, and Eliot's pushed back against him. "That I was going to... feel. This." 

His hand wrapped around Eliot's hip, holding him there, so he couldn't swim away. Bucky's body floated flush with Eliot's, and he could feel Bucky's erection pressing against the inside of his thigh. If Eliot had any doubts about Bucky's feelings, they were washed away into the spring. 

Despite the warmth of the water, Eliot felt himself began to tremble. His eyelids fluttered shut as Bucky kissed the back of his neck, and Eliot groaned.

"Tell me this is what you wanted," Bucky said, his voice low and hoarse in Eliot's ear. He gripped Eliot's hip tighter. "Please."

"I want it," Eliot said, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could even think about it. "I want -- I want you."

As if freed by Eliot's words, Bucky kissed his neck again, this time at the crook of his shoulder, before moving upwards toward his ear. His hand snaked around Eliot's body and grasped onto the waiting erection.

Eliot moaned, and reached back and grab ahold of Bucky, grasping for anything, and finding the back of his thigh. He pulled Bucky closer, if they could any closer, and captured Bucky's cock between his legs. Bucky groaned, the sound giving off a vibration throughout his chest, purring into Eliot's back.

They rolled their bodies together, floating aimlessly in the water, Bucky working Eliot's cock with a sort of clumsy elegance of someone out of practice, but trying very hard. Eliot couldn't do much in his position, except keeping his thighs together and moving his hips to feel the friction on Bucky's cock. Eliot let out a little whimper every time he felt the tip of Bucky's dick bump up against his balls.

Eliot came first, his body going stiff as the orgasm overtook him completely. He saw white stars, with nothing else around him except Bucky's body and Bucky's hand still wrapped around his dick. It was everything release should be. With it, came every bit of tension he'd been holding for the last three days, and he relaxed against Bucky's body, like a man at sea finding a raft to hold onto.

"Oh fuck," Eliot mumbled.

Behind him, Bucky kept thrusting his hips between Eliot's legs. "I'm not--"

"Keep going," Eliot said, squeezing Bucky's thigh. "It'd be a crime to stop now."

Bucky barked a laugh. His hand dropped from Eliot's cock and went back to its place on Eliot's hip and Eliot wondered how he spent all this time with Bucky without his hand right there. His grip tightened moments later when he came, but he was probably being gentle. He probably could have crushed every bone in Eliot's body if he had the mind to. The thought was strangely exhilarating. 

Eliot turned his body so they were facing each other, and wrapped his arms around Bucky's waist, holding them together. "So, that happened. I didn't see that coming."

A slow grin spread across Bucky's face. "I knew it was going to happen the second we got in the hot spring."

"You dirty old man."

Bucky laughed. "Yes, I am."

Eliot smiled and his thigh brushed against Bucky's still hard cock. "Oh. You're--"

"Side effect," Bucky said, at least having the decency to appear sheepish. 

"How long does it stay like that?" Eliot asked. He slipped one arm to Bucky's front and took the very generous length in his hand. "How many times can you go?"

Bucky shuddered, the smile never quite dissipating from his lips. "I've never really tested it. I've usually just let it go down on its own."

Eliot leaned his face in closer, pressing a kiss to Bucky's jaw. The stubble irritated the split lip, but Eliot didn't mind the pain. He knew his power came from pain. "Now, that's a real shame," he mumbled, running his fingers up and then back down the shaft. "What a waste of a good hard on."

"I didn't think of it as a waste until -- now." Bucky's words were stunted by Eliot swirling his finger around the circumference of the tip of Bucky's cock. He reached up and with his wet hand, grabbed a firm hold on the back of Eliot's hair. He leaned in and kissed Eliot hard.

Eliot clung to him, their mouths working together like they'd been at it for years. Bucky's kisses were focused, with nothing else in his mind except the act of kissing. Eliot was less so, if only as not to get so caught up in the kiss that he lost focus on the task in his hand. If Bucky could have four or five orgasms for every one of Eliot's, then fuck it, Eliot was going to give it to him.

Bucky had pushed them to the side of the hot spring, Eliot now pinned against some stone had been made smooth from hundreds of years in the water. As Bucky's kisses moved from Eliot's mouth down his neck Eliot lifted his chin to give Bucky better access. Bucky only pulled back when his second orgasm came, and then relaxed, resting his face on Eliot's shoulder.

"You're not tired already, are you?" Eliot asked.

Bucky lifted his head and smiled. He kissed Eliot, softly this time. "No, but it doesn't seem fair for you to be doing all the work while I reap the benefits."

"You think this isn't a benefit?" Eliot did release his hold on Bucky's cock to roll his wrist a couple of times, the joints cracking. "Though I suppose carpal tunnel is a risk."

"What?"

Eliot grinned. "Never mind."

They pulled themselves from the hot spring and curled up together, still naked, on Bucky's bedroll, the evening sun giving everything a warm pink glow. Eliot rested his hand on Bucky's chest.

"What are you planning to do after the binding?"

Bucky shrugged. I thought I'd stay at Abernathy's for a while -- there may be someone there but I'm assuming the cottage is empty."

"Just be an old recluse in the woods?"

"I could be."

"Or you could come back to Whitespire," Eliot said, running a finger around Bucky's nipple. "Be the High King's personal bodyguard. You're already doing a great job at that."

Bucky smiled, but shook his head. "Whitespire is exactly the kind of attention I want to avoid. Even if the binding works exactly the way I think it will, they could still come for me. And I know for a fact that your armies can't hold back the US military. I can't put you at that kind of risk."

Eliot thought of Fillory's resources. They had a lot in the way of agriculture -- thanks in part to Eliot's knowledge of farming without magic -- but Bucky was right that their army was weak. Even a small regiment with guns would be no match for what Fillory had to offer.

"I could stay for a while," Eliot said. "With you."

"And leave Margo? She wants my head just for taking you away this long," Bucky replied. "What would she do if I kept you?"

Part of Eliot was sure Margo would understand, but the realistic part knew that she would tear down the forest and grab him out of there if she thought he was going to make a happy home and leave her alone. And more importantly, he would never leave her alone, not for too long. He wasn't the same without his Bambi, and she wasn't the same without him. It was just how things were.

"Hey." Bucky reached up and touched Eliot's cheek. "Maybe what this is, it's not meant to be forever. It's meant to be right now, and we should... enjoy it."

Eliot's stomach did a flip. "You're acting like it's already over."

"No. Let's just not get too hung up on the future."

Now that, Eliot could do. He'd made a whole life on thinking about the now and not concerning himself with the next day's hangover, or the repercussions of taking hallucinogens before an exam. But wrapping the whole of his body around Bucky, it felt more real than anything else, and the thought of losing something so solid hurt. But Bucky was right. The future might not be for them.

Eliot tucked his head under Bucky's chin and closed his eyes, quite suddenly overcome with the need to sleep. "Tell me a story. Tell me when you knew you wanted to touch my dick."

Bucky chuckled. "When I wanted to touch your dick? When you walked into the dungeon at Whitespire."

"Seriously?" Eliot opened one eye, but he was too close to see if Bucky was fucking with him.

"No shoes, no shirt under your robe. I could see this nipple." Bucky brushed his finger over Eliot's left nipple, and the sensation was like a sparkler throughout Eliot's body. "I didn't come here to be attracted to the first man I saw, but... I was relieved when you were the one who wanted to come with me."

"I did that because I wanted to fuck you." Sleep was threatening Eliot faster now. He stifled a yawn.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Eliot snuggled closer to Bucky and sighed a deep, contented sigh. "Wake when it's morning."

* * *

Eliot was reluctant to leave the hot spring, as the effects of it on his body was night and day. His legs and back were still sore, but they were no longer tight and tugging with every step. He also may have benefited from the sex in the hot spring, and having a full night's sleep wrapped up in Bucky's warm embrace.

Bucky stayed close to him as they walked, often resting his hand at the small of Eliot's back, or at the nape of his neck. 

"You know, since we're getting close, I guess I should ask what kind of magic we're going to be doing," Eliot said. "I've done a few bindings, but nothing quite as big as this. Definitely not binding someone to a realm. We're going to have to build a lot of energy to generate enough magic to keep you here. That'd be difficult if magic was on, but having to create it ourselves, that's something else. It's a lot."

Bucky nodded. "It's been a long time since I've looked at any spell. I..." He pulled away from Eliot. He was still close, but they were no longer touching. "I don't even know if I _can_ cast."

"Why not?" Eliot asked, and as the words left his mouth, realization dawned. "Your hands."

"I had two of them when I was here before," Bucky said. "I'm assuming I'll be able to do some things, but I don't know if I'll be able to do any of it. This might have all been for nothing."

He sounded so dejected, Eliot wanted to make it better, even though he knew there was nothing he could do. At least, not like this. There were spells he'd read for charming wood to life, used for puppetry mainly, but he imagined it could be translated to prosthetics. There just wasn't going to be enough magic to do that, even if they already had an arm ready for Bucky, and after that, there was no guarantee that the wood would channel magic the way flesh does.

Eliot, fully and completely ill-equipped to offer comfort that wasn't of a sexual nature, stayed silent. He did, as they kept walking, take Bucky's hand. Bucky didn't acknowledge the gesture, but didn't pull his hand away until he needed use of it.

They didn't stop for lunch, eating the dried meat and the last of the bread as they walked. They were close. They were certainly too close to stop.

Eliot could feel the narrative swooping in on a climatic finale: could they actually create magical energy from nothing? Could they generate enough energy to perform Bucky's binding? And what would happen when they did? Where would they go from there? 

Clearings in the wood were typically visible as you approached them, Eliot had learned, a bright light not shaded by the trees, but this one seemed to appear out of nowhere. One second they were in the forest, and now they were standing in an open space.

"Whoa," Eliot said, taking in the clear blue sky overhead. "I thought those kinds of illusion spells disappeared with magic."

"Abernathy was always a tricky one," Bucky replied, as if that explained everything.

Eliot looked around, trying to take in what the space could tell him about not only Bucky, but the elusive Abernathy he'd heard mentioned, but was told very little about.

The clearing was small and cluttered, about half the space being taken by a small cottage, not unlike the one Eliot had shared with Quentin a lifetime ago, but older and decidedly ramshackled. The house had that bloated look of wood that had been soaked through and dried out too many times, and the whole thing was crooked with a crumbling foundation. The sagging roof was covered in a sheet of moss that hung over the eaves. Wooden pens lined the sides of the house, the fencing almost rotted through and the smell of the goats that probably hadn't been there in decades permeated the space.

In front of the cottage was a large blackened circle of what appeared to be scorched earth. Eliot stepped on it experimentally, and it felt like regular grass underfoot. More important than the color, was the tingle Eliot felt as he entered the circle. He looked over at Bucky who was trying to open the jammed front door.

"What happened here?"

Bucky looked over at Eliot. "It was like that when I came here. I don't know what he did to cause the grass to do that, but the space was consecrated with magic. We would practice there. It gave us a leg up on any spell. It was a power spot."

Eliot grinned. "It still is. That's how the illusion spell is still active. Whatever the hell he did to this very specific space, it still has magic in it."

Abandoning the door, Bucky walked to the circle and stepped into it. His eyes fluttered shut. "I missed this."

"Me too," Eliot replied.

Bucky shook his head, and opened his eyes to look at Eliot. "I haven't had access to magic since Hydra took up space in my head. I... I didn't know if I was going to get it back. I didn't know if I could even feel it again."

Eliot reached over and took Bucky's hand. At the touch of his skin, Eliot felt not only the magic coming from the circle, but the magic that was now flowing through Bucky. It was an intense heat, bubbling and boiling, untapped and powerful. He wasn't the Winter Soldier, he was a goddamn fire.

They were going to be able to do this.

Outside of the circle, the magic was gone, but Eliot could still feel the heat that the magic had left behind. He followed Bucky to the house and now with the taste of magic in him, Eliot could feel the wards on the cottage. They were weak from years of neglect and easy to dismantle. Together, though mostly with Bucky's brute strength, they shoved the door open. The door frame cracked, the wood splintering all over the ground as they stumbled into the cottage.

The inside smelled of rotted wood and a deep, sweet, musty smell that wasn't entirely unpleasant, but certainly wasn't what a living space should smell like. It was dark, the light barely filtering in through the dirty windows, and everything was covered in dust, from the heavy wooden table to the copper kettle that hung in the fireplace. It appeared to be one large room, with a section in the back curtained from the rest of the house, and a ladder leading up into a lofted space that was cloaked in darkness.

"That was my room," Buck said, when he caught Eliot looking up the loft. "Steve and I shared it. Abernathy's room was back here." He moved to the back of the cottage, stepping around stacks of books and boxes. He pulled back the curtain and his body went rigid.

"Bucky?" Eliot asked, following the path Bucky had taken to keep from tripping over anything. He peered around Bucky to see what he was seeing. "Oh."

The remains of a body lay in the bed, as if he had gone to sleep one night and simply never woke up, now only to be a everything horrible and beautiful that nature had to offer. It was a decomposed mass, still wet and fragrant beneath an open window, surrounding a grey skeleton with an open jaw. Everything, from the moldy shreds of blankets to even the smallest of the bones, was covered in huge brown mushrooms and little purple flowers.

"I knew he was dead," Bucky said stiffly, his hand still grasping the curtain. "It had been too long. I just didn't expect to find him like this."

"Was he..." Eliot hesitated, unsure how to ask about Bucky's relationship to this man. Was he a father figure? A mentor? A benevolent older brother? "I mean, did you..."

"He was an asshole. He beat me when I couldn't work a spell, or didn't cast the way he liked." Bucky's gaze held steady on the body, his eyes cold and dark. "There wasn't anything I could do that didn't result in him screaming at me to do better. I was a kid, I was barely twelve, and he treated me like shit. But he never touched Steve." His tone brightened slightly, as though this simple act, not even toward himself, could forgive the trauma. "He listened when Steve told him to back off, that enough was enough. He knew Steve was worth protecting."

"So were you," Eliot said, unable to keep the horror out of his voice. He knew abuse, and he knew Bucky would never see it that way (Eliot certainly never did), but it had to be said.

"He made me the man I am today," Bucky said, as though he hadn't heard Eliot at all. He released the curtain and stepped into the makeshift bedroom. He began going through the books on the floor, some so water damaged the writing inside was washed away, and others growing their own mushrooms and flowers so deeply rooted the books could barely be opened.

"What are we looking for?" Eliot asked, going to the bookshelf that took up most of the side wall. The spines of the books were spotted with mold, but they appeared to at least be in tact.

Bucky upturned a wooden crate, only for silver cutlery to spill out onto the floor. "His grimoire. It's a big leather book. Even the pages are leather, and it's held together with gold rings. That was where he kept all of his most powerful spells. I was never allowed to use spells out of it, it was advanced stuff, but I assisted him on some. That's where I saw the energy spell."

The shelf definitely didn't have any ring-bound books, so Eliot took to Bucky's method of digging through the books on the floor. It seemed such a waste to have this much magical knowledge hidden behind an illusion spell, and washed away by decades of rain and human decomposition.

"Are you sure it would be in here?" Eliot asked. He didn't see anything like what Bucky described, and he _really_ didn't want to get his hands covered in the filth that had seeped through the bed if he didn't have to.

Bucky looked out into the darkened main part of the room. "He always kept it with him, just in case Steve and I got into it, but if there was no one here, he might have been less paranoid."

Eliot was out of the bedroom space first, going for the boxes, while Bucky scoured the shelves, and dug through the clutter on the table. What Eliot learned was that he could have spent days with these books, and he hated books, preferring a more practical approach to magic, but there was too much information here to just _leave_.

He was High King and the owner of the books was very dead. He could probably just have them sent back to Whitespire, right?

"Found it!" Bucky called, even though Eliot was only a few feet away. He clutched a large book to his chest, the dim light glinting off the rings, that seemed impervious to the dust covering everything else in the house.

"Let's take it outside," Eliot said.

Bucky paused, but after taking a quick glance around the dark room with the _dead body in it_ , he nodded, and they went back out into the fresh air and sunshine.

They spread out on the ground, just beyond the ring of blackened grass. Eliot curled himself right into Bucky's space as they turned the thick leather pages of the grimoire. The book was beautiful, with charts for each of the intricate hand movements, and hand-painted illustrations of the results, or the specific finger placement.

All of the spells inside were intense, but Eliot refused to be intimidated by them. Neither of them were fully-trained magicians, and there was a chance that Bucky couldn't even cast, but they had to be able to make up the difference in hubris.

Bucky hesitated on one page that was not the spell they were looking for, but his hand lingered over an image, a faded sketch in the margins, of a boy hovering above the ground, the grass painted green below him. "Steve drew this one. We got in so much trouble."

After hearing Bucky's assessment of Abernathy moments before, Eliot wasn't sure he wanted more details, but the expression on Bucky's face was one of fondness and nostalgia. And maybe a little bit of regret.

In that moment, Eliot realized that Bucky was never going to love someone as much as he loved Steve. It was impossible, but also completely understandable. Eliot would never love anyone the way he loved Margo, and the two of them had probably been through only half as much shit, though their shit spanned a much shorter amount of time, with equally intense life or death situations. When he really thought about it, Eliot could live with it.

"Is the binding in here?" Eliot asked, slowly weaning Bucky's thoughts from the old drawing in the book. "We need a strong one if we want to overrule the realm."

"No," Bucky replied breaking out of his daze. "It's in one of the other books. I hope it wasn't eaten by mushrooms."

"There's a lot of binding spells, I'm sure we'll find one that works."

Bucky turned another page, then stood abruptly. "I'm going to look for the book with the binding. I need it more than this spell." 

While Bucky went back into the house, Eliot flipped through the grimoire, looking for the energy spell. Everything in the cottage had been so wet, damaged and moist, but the grimoire was dry, the leather pages thin like paper, but rough under his fingers as he turned the pages.

Eliot found it about halfway through the book, a spell to pull magical energy from within the bowels of the Earth, to dredge it up from the source. He glanced back at the blackened circle for a moment with a sudden understanding of what happened there. If it worked once, it should work again. All they needed was the tools.

The spelled encompassed three pages of detailed instructions and illustrations, but it was the last page, the final act that brought channeled the magic from the Earth into whatever vessel needed to contain it, that caught Eliot's attention.

"Hey," Eliot said, as Bucky walked out of the cottage, a book sprouting only one lonely mushroom clutched to his chest, "did you know this spell was sex magic?"

Bucky stopped, his face suddenly wary of the conversation's direction. "I did."

Eliot stood up, leaving the grimoire on the grass, a dull numbing overcoming his limbs as he moved. "So, was all of this, you know, us, was that just for the spell? Did you think you needed to seduce me to get me to do it? You could have just told me."

"I should have," Bucky said. His mouth moved, but the rest of his body was like stone, a testament to stillness. His gaze was set firmly over Eliot's shoulder. "I wasn't thinking about the spell. I was distracted. It was the first time I'd allowed myself to be distracted in a long time. It felt good to think about something other than the mission."

"You just... forgot?"

"I omitted," Bucky replied. "If yesterday -- if I hadn't -- I would have lied and you never would have know the difference. I would have said that it was surprise to me and that you could turn it down, but I don't want to lie to you. You're not a mission."

Eliot considered the words, as he considered Bucky's stance. Over the last few days, he recognized Bucky's body language as much as his words, the tightening of his muscles at uncomfortable truths, the way he looked away, like he was ashamed. Eliot took a deep breath and put on a smile. "All right. Drama over."

Bucky blinked, his shoulders visibly lowering as he relaxed. "That's it?"

"Yes. I don't even choose to forgive you because there's nothing to forgive. You didn't know me four days ago. You had no idea that I would be so charming."

Bucky moved closer to Eliot, but stayed out of a striking distance. "I'm used to issues resolving themselves through violence."

Eliot laughed. "Oh god, no. You'd kick my ass. I'm actually very frail from years of alcoholism. I would be dead in seconds. That's not worth it."

Relaxing further, Bucky stepped into Eliot's space. "Thank you," he said huskily.

"For what?" Eliot asked, sliding an arm around Bucky's waist. He loved the way Bucky fit next to him, his imposing build, larger than life, but his head resting neatly on Eliot's shoulder.

"For believing me. For listening."

"Well, this is Fillory, so I doubt your violent days are behind you, but you won't have them because of me. Unless more people try to kill me and you want to protect me. That's... likely."

Bucky chuckled deep within his throat as he pressed his mouth to Eliot's cheek and mumbled against the skin, "You want to do some sex magic?"

"With you? More than anything in the world."

* * *

The cottage may have been a musty disaster, but the cupboards were still filled to the brim with perfectly usable supplies: herbs and powders that had been stored in jars, the tops of the corks spotted with mold, but the contents perfectly safe, and candles stored in old flour sacks, the wax coated in beads of sweat, but unwarped through time.

Eliot picked up a bottle, a large one, the size of his hand. "Is this full of blood?"

"It's probably goat," Bucky replied. He and Eliot were digging through the cupboards, shoulder to shoulder. The supplies were in tact, but they weren't labeled, so anything that wasn't immediately recognizable had to be opened and inspected. "We had so many fucking goats."

"Fucking goats. Kinky."

Bucky gave him a sidealong look, but smiled. "It may still be good. There were some charms to keep that stuff from coagulating."

Eliot popped open the top and took a sniff. "Smells like fresh blood. It's better than the alternative. Now we just need the mixers and chasers."

"It's getting dark out," Bucky said, glancing out the window. "We should get started."

They went outside with their basket of supplies and lined the blackened grass with white candles in glasses. Fevered by the tingle of magic around him, Eliot lit the candles with a simple flick of his fingers. Each wick ignited in unison.

"Oh, I love that," he mumbled. He set out three glass spheres. They looked like oversized Christmas ornaments, each one the size of a softball. If the spell worked, the magic would fill them and could be used by releasing a small valve at the top of the sphere to inhale just a touch of the magic within. It was impractical, the spheres were thin and fragile, but the applications would be ultimately worth it when used.

Bucky stepped into the circle with a silver bowl Eliot knew was filled with the goat's blood mixed with herbs and ash. He set it down on the ground between them and then looked up at Eliot with a smile. "You ready?"

Eliot tugged open Bucky's tunic and pushed it off his shoulders. He ran his fingers down Bucky's chest. "Oh, I'm... so ready."

Bucky laughed. It wasn't his hoarse, bark of a laugh, the dark thing that he called a laugh, but a real, genuine, bright laugh, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight. He touched Eliot's cheek. "I'm going to have to remember that we're doing magic."

"Yeah, it's going to be a challenge," Eliot agreed.

His hand dropped to Eliot's chest, Bucky pulled at the buttons at the front of Eliot's shirt, plucking them open one by one. He thumbed a nipple, sending shivers throughout Eliot's body. He was already hard, his cock throbbing against the front of his trousers.

"Magic," Eliot said breathlessly, and Bucky grinned.

"I remember." He leaned over and picked up the silver bowl, and Eliot took it from him before Bucky dipped his first two fingers into it. He lifted his hand to Eliot's stomach and painted the sigils. First, the sign for earth, an upside down triangle with a line through the pointed tip, then a symbol of power, a circle with a horizontal line line inside it, and a line connecting the two of them. 

Eliot shifted the bowl to his left hand and mirrored the symbols, just above Bucky's navel. He set the bowl down on the ground and then looked up at Bucky. He knew what to do next, but he hesitated. Once they started, there was no stopping and no going back, maintaining some level of physical connection until the spell was completed.

Bucky tucked his hand beneath Eliot's left ear, and leaned in close, pressing their foreheads together. Eliot paid no mind to the goat's blood that was now in his hair, or the way the warm wind dried the symbols to his skin as Bucky kissed him softly, once, twice, and then a third time before he began to chant in ancient Sumerian.

It took Eliot a moment to realize that, yes, they were starting the spell, and began chanting in unison with Bucky. His hands pulled at the tie on Bucky's trousers and the fabric fell to the ground. Eliot swallowed, looking down at Bucky's dick, which had been majestic yesterday, but now that he was about to get on top of it, it was suddenly very large.

Still chanting, Bucky kicked the his pants away and dropped to his knees in front of Eliot. Between words, he kissed Eliot's stomach, and pulled open his trousers. It wasn't part of the spell, but as if Bucky couldn't help himself, he brought his lips to Eliot's cock, his tongue running underneath the head.

Eliot's entire body jerked, and it took every bit of concentration on his Sumerian pronunciation to keep from coming right then. He pushed Bucky back an inch and quickly shimmied out of his trousers, the last of the clothes between them gone.

Bucky gazed up at him hungrily, and Eliot's skin broke out in gooseflesh. He had never felt as completely desired as he did in that moment. Tears welled up in his eyes. He couldn't break the chanting, not for another eight rounds of the text, but he really wanted to swear, or make a sarcastic quip, or beg a drink, but he was bound to keep up the chanting, to not break the moment happening between himself and Bucky.

Eliot knelt down, and rested his hands on Bucky's shoulders, partly to feel the muscles under his hands, and partly to hold Bucky back, so he wouldn't lean in for a kiss. If they started now, they wouldn't stop, and he honestly wasn't sure if Bucky could control himself that long. His lust was palatable, pre-come dripping copiously from his cock. 

Gently, Eliot pushed Bucky's shoulders back until Bucky got the message and shifted so he was sitting on the ground. His arm wound around Eliot's body and pulled him closer. Eliot pressed a slightly impatient kiss to Bucky's forehead as they started on the sixth round of the chanting. The enthusiasm was great, but there was work to do. Eliot swung a leg over Bucky's body and straddled his hips. He could feel the blunt, wet tip of Bucky's cock rubbing against his ass, threatening to slip inside.

Eliot lifted his hands to chin level, and Bucky did the same. They began the series of intricate hand movements to the rhythm of the chanting. Bucky's fear that he wouldn't be able to cast wasn't unfounded, as Eliot could already feel the magic coming from him was weaker than it should have been -- but maybe he was rusty. Maybe they should have started smaller. To compensate, Eliot began chanting louder. Bucky followed suit, and the symbols on Eliot's skin began to burn. He bit the inside of his lip, his face contorting into a pained grimace, but the burning passed almost as quickly as it had come upon them.

The Earth began to tremble beneath them from deep within the ground, like the faint sensation of an earthquake far away. It rumbled and groaned, a cranky threat for being disturbed. The connection was made. They were locked onto the source of magic. Now, all they had to do was dredge it up.

On the final round of chanting, Eliot leaned back, allowing Bucky's cock to press into him. He gasped. It wasn't as if he'd been unaware that Bucky's dick was large, but the girth of it, the way just the tip of it stretched him open, it was shocking how a new sensation, no matter how much you prepared yourself for it, was still going to seem foreign. It didn't hurt so much as take his breath away, and slow down everything around him, while his body went into hyperdrive. Eliot took a few breaths, trying to keep them slow as not to hyperventilate, but it still came out in a pant. 

"Gently," Bucky mumbled, as the chanting ending. "Take it slow."

Gripping Bucky's shoulder tighty, Eliot lowered himself some more, opening further. His thighs burned, holding himself upright. "It feels like I'm being ripped in two."

"We can stop," Bucky said. His hand came down to cup Eliot's ass, providing Eliot some relief as he could rest his weight on that instead.

"We can't stop," Eliot said, as tears spilled down his cheeks. He needed that magic. He needed the leverage. Most of all, he needed Bucky to fuck him. There was no way he would give up a second of this, no matter the consequences. He was going to take every goddamn inch if it killed him. Instead of slowing down, he made himself take more. It was beginning to hurt, the pain and pleasure mixing, but mostly Eliot just felt _full_.

"Eliot--"

"I've got this," Eliot gasped. Every nerve in his body was on fire, burning him from the inside out. Every blood vessel felt like it was about to burst, and his heart throbbed helplessly in his throat. He somehow managed to relax his thighs and lower himself further.

"Hey, you've got it, you're done," Bucky said. He looked considerably more concerned than Eliot would have liked, not when he should have appeared more aroused, or at least impressed. His worry did nothing to change the hardness of his cock. "How do you feel?"

Eliot trembled. "I can't move. How the fuck am I supposed to fuck you if I can't move?" He tried not to sound panicked, but fuck if he wasn't panicking, at least a little.

Bucky squeezed Eliot's ass, sending a shock of amazing, but immeasurable pain, throughout Eliot's body. "I've got you," he said and slowly began to rock his hips. He didn't try to thrust, or make any sudden movements, he just shifted his weight enough to light up every pleasure center in Eliot's body. This didn't change his very stuck situation, but the slight motion of Bucky inside of him, it made him tense and relax at the same time. 

Dimly, somewhere in the background of this, Eliot was aware of the way the magic moved through the Earth, pulling towards them. It was working.

"Eliot?" Bucky's hand came up to the back of Eliot's hip to steady him. 

Eliot nodded, as he managed to rock in in time with Bucky. He threw his head back, his cock wedged between their bodies and Bucky's lips coming to his neck, and everything went white with Eliot's orgasm. His entire body tensed, and the world shut down around him, and for a minute -- what felt like a full goddamn minute -- there was nothing but himself, and Bucky, and the magic flowing through the earth.

Thick ropey strands of come spilled out between them with the force of a fountain, Eliot's body tightening with each new sputter of come that spurted out of him. He buried his face in Bucky's neck, too caught up to cry out, and biting down on the thick of his shoulder.

Like a domino effect, Bucky came right after him, and Eliot could feel everything. He felt the way Bucky's cock tensed and released, and how it shrank a little, but was still stiff and stretching him open, and now as Eliot began to thrust properly, Bucky's come moved in him, hot and slick, down the length of Bucky's shaft, warming to Eliot's body.

"Oh, that was -- that was--" Bucky gasped, gripping Eliot tighter to him.

"Yeah, it was," Eliot said, lifting his head only enough to check the globes, and the bottoms inch was filled with a white mist. They had a long way to go. He brought his head up, placed his hands on Bucky's chest. "Lay back."

Bucky nodded faintly, but not before leaning to press his mouth messily to Eliot's. Eliot slid his hands up Bucky's neck, kissing him desperately, and he could feel the tightness of Bucky growing harder inside of him.

"Back," Eliot mumbled against Bucky's lips. "Trust me."

"I trust you," Bucky replied and gave Eliot one more kiss, before laying back onto the ground, stretching out in front of Eliot like a model on a bearskin rug.

Eliot ran his hands down Bucky's chest and across his stomach, over the sigils and sticky come, as he sat back up. He wasn't hard again yet, so this was just for Bucky. If Eliot would ever name his greatest skill, it would be his ability to entertain.

He sat back, taking in as much of Bucky's cock as he could, before leaning forward, pulling himself off of it, maybe halfway, maybe more. He shuddered, the sensation sending chills up his spine, before coming back down on it again. Rolling his hips, Eliot began to outright ride Bucky. He rubbed his own chest, working his fingers over his nipples, the way Bucky had wanted to do only minutes before, teasing him. He threw his head back, whipping the sweat out of his hair, moving faster, almost in time with the beating of his heart, their skin slapping together loudly, echoing off the trees. It was wet and obscene, and fucking perfect.

Bucky's eyes were wide, his hand massaging Eliot's thigh. "Fuck, you're beautiful."

Eliot grinned. "I know it." 

Reaching between Eliot's legs, Bucky wrapped his hand loosely around Eliot's mostly soft cock, his thumb massing circles around the tip. Eliot moaned and began thrusting harder, his hips snapping back every time he came down on Bucky's cock like he was the one on the verge of orgasm. It was overwhelming, a fuzziness filling Eliot's vision as Bucky went stiff, his hand clamping tighter around Eliot as he came.

Every time Eliot thought he couldn't take more, he did, Bucky's come filling him with warmth. He went dizzy with sensation, his eyes fluttering shut, the world a blurred watercolor painting around him. It was like being high and drunk at the same time, something Eliot had experienced multiple times, but this was better, more cozy and comfortable in the strange sensation of not being quite in your own mind. Barely registering that Bucky had sat up, Eliot felt the strong arm wrap around his body and hold him upright.

"Calm down, partner," Bucky mumbled his lips brushing against Eliot's jaw. "Just slow down."

Eliot slowed his thrusting to a gentle rock on Bucky's dick, leaning into the secure presence of Bucky's solid weight. "We can't stop."

"I'm not stopping, but you need a break. The connection's still there, you can feel it."

He could. The magic was all around them in a way that reminded Eliot briefly of Brakebills before all of this went to shit. The way magic hung thick and heavy in the air, akin to humidity in the midwestern summers, clinging to everything like sweat.

Slowly, Eliot opened his eyes and smiled at Bucky. "That was hot."

Bucky laughed, every bit of him shaking with it. "It was. Look."

Eliot turned his head toward the globes, and now they were nearly halfway full. Things were moving faster now. "Oh. And here I thought we'd get to do this a little longer."

"We aren't stopping yet." Bucky's mouth was now on Eliot's neck, as though they needed to be connected _more_. "You've done a lot of work. How about I carry us home?"

Eliot nodded. For all the pleasure coursing through him, an almost sleepy calm and comfort, for all he didn't want to ever stop, he was tired. His body ached, his wrecked hole especially protesting each movement. He wondered if this was how Bucky used to talk to Steve, the sickly boy in Fillory, when he pushed himself too hard and overexerted himself to the point of exhaustion, this soothing voice that was sweet, but not condescending.

Bucky kissed him, open and wet, and desperate, like he hadn't already come twice, like a horny kid with his first boyfriend. Eliot reached up and cupped the back of Bucky's neck, as though he was going somewhere, and even this, just the quiet kissing, was pulling magic through them.

"Hold on, we're gonna move," Bucky said.

Eliot wrapped his arms around Bucky, clutching his entire body to Bucky's chest, as Bucky then rolled them over so Eliot was the one laying out on the blackened grass. Eliot actually cried out, keening helplessly, his legs going limp with relief and his entire body tingling. The thick presence of Bucky's cock inside of him didn't leave, though Bucky had pulled out about halfway in the process of moving them, keeping Eliot's hips tilted upward. Slowly, Bucky pushed back into him, and Eliot whimpered, stray tears releasing down the sides of his face and into his hair.

He tried to get his thoughts back together, trying to reclaim his wall against vulnerability, but even in his state, he knew it was far too late for that now.

"Talk to me." Bucky loomed over him. One lock of hair had come loose from his bun, casting a shadow across his eyes. He was holding himself up with his right arm, leaving no option to touch Eliot, but Eliot was at least able to provide some contact.

Reaching up, Eliot pressed both hands to Bucky's chest, and scraped his fingernails through the smattering of dark chest hair. He rubbed his pinky finger against the hardened point of Bucky's nipple, and he felt Bucky's cock twitch inside of him, tightening in the space again. "Fuck me," he said, finding a bit of coherency through the fog. "And don't stop."

Bucky's eyes went dark and intense as he leaned down just a little further, taking a deep breath, inhaling Eliot's scent (weird, Eliot thought absently, but what the hell), before he straightened up. With his hand resting on Eliot's thigh, he began to move slowly, but with deep, purposeful thrusts.

Eliot groaned, half through the pain, and the rest -- it was an elevated pleasure, like sex on another plane of existence that was just him and Bucky and the taste of magic in his mouth, and the magic vibrating in his bones. A warm breeze came through the clearing and while the candles flickered, Bucky gripped Eliot's thigh tighter.

"Touch yourself," Bucky said, his voice heavy with lust. "Show me."

Almost with surprise, Eliot looked down to find his cock half hard. He grasped it, and started working it up to its full length. Bucky licked his lips as his gaze wandered down Eliot's body, and Eliot wondered if this is what the boys in the army did, watching each other jerk off, because _that_ wasn't gay. 

Bucky began thrusting faster, and Eliot watched in awe as the veins bulge from Bucky's neck and his arm, how he bit his lip as he got closer to climax, and the way his abs tightened.

"Hey," Eliot gasped. "Come on me. I want to see -- I want to see you come."

Bucky nodded quickly, and began pounding Eliot deeper. Eliot could feel it throughout every part of his body, all the way up to a tingling at the top of his head. He arched his back, trying to take more of Bucky inside of him as the fog lifted and he felt every sensation with crystal clarity. He could feel every vein in Bucky's cock rubbing against him, and the salty taste of the sweat that ran down the side of Bucky's face.

"Okay, okay," Bucky said, almost more to himself than to Eliot. "Make sure we don't lose contact."

Eliot pulled his legs in closer, hinging his knee around Bucky's backside, his heel resting rather comfortably in the split of Bucky's ass. He dug it in, putting pressure on Bucky's hole, stimulating him, all while giving himself more leverage around Bucky's solid body.

Bucky gave a stuttered gasp as he pulled out. His dick was coated in a thin layer of his own come, shining in the candlelight, and he began to jerk himself off. It only took two strong strokes before he came again, this time spilling hard across Eliot's body. Come dripped hot down Eliot's balls, over his hand, and atop his stomach. Bucky grimaced as he pulled at his dick, the working out every last drop that was somehow still in him until it sputtered onto the ground between them.

What surprised Eliot wasn't the amount of come that now covered his lower half, though it immense, it was the emptiness he felt without Bucky inside of him. He felt suddenly so light, like he might fly away, and he held the deeply intense knowledge that without it, he would definitely not come.

"Get back in me," Eliot said, squeezing his leg tighter around Bucky. "Now, now."

Bucky complied, and still hard, he filled Eliot again, though shallower, an almost teasing among of his cock just inside the entrance of Eliot's hole, moving gently inside of him.

Eliot forced his head into the ground, pulling at Bucky with his leg, and squeezing himself tighter as he came. The orgasm filled every part of his body, and like light bursting through a window, Eliot was glowing, a creature of some other means, ascended to another level of what magic and sex could be. 

He came back down into the darkness, the sun fully set around them, with only the candlelight to see by, but he knew he was made up of something different now. He was connected to Fillory, and the sky, and magic, and the universe in some new way. 

"Fuck," Eliot said, as eloquently as possible, but it came out ragged and thick. He had no other words, because no other word world ever fully encompass what he just happened to him. For a moment, he had become a higher sexual being.

"Yeah. Fuck," Bucky replied with a laugh. He ran his hand down the the length of Eliot's thigh and then back up to his ankle, a soothing gesture. "The spheres are almost full, Eliot, you topped them off. We gotta close this out before they burst."

Eliot nodded, and reached up for Bucky's hand. Bucky laced his fingers with Eliot's and they began, breathlessly, to chant together.

It was even more difficult this time to concentrate on his Sumerian, but somehow Eliot got through, thankfully, only four rounds of chanting to close out the spell and the connection. Slowly, Bucky pulled out of him and Eliot released his hand. They separated, the connection between themselves and the earth below now broken.

Eliot's chest heaved with the deep, impatient breaths as he stared up in the starry sky "Is it weird that I kind of want to fuck again?"

Next to him, Bucky laughed, "I think I've forgotten everything in the world that isn't having sex with you."

Eliot turned his head and looked at Bucky. He was a mess, the sigils on his stomach streaky, and sweat matting his hair to the side of his face. He was also incredibly beautiful, his eyes glowing in the candlelight and his face shining.

"I know exactly what you mean," Eliot replied.

It took them both a while to get their legs beneath them, and while Eliot was thinking about how he could just sleep there forever, he knew he needed to clean up, and gets the spheres stored safely for the journey back to Whitespire.

Bucky had gotten up first, but he stopped just inside the ring of candles. "Eliot, you have to look at this."

With a groan, Eliot sat up and he allowed Bucky to help him to his feet. It didn't take him more than a second to see what had caught Bucky's eye. They had put those candles just as the edge of circle, and now the blackened grass extended another two inches outside of them.

"That's impressive," Eliot said, though it wouldn't be until later that he fully grasped that they had taken a magic hotspot in a world without magic and made it even bigger. The power to do that was probably just below god-like, and between the two of them, they had managed it.

While Bucky packed the spheres in a crate he'd found inside the house, Eliot started on cleaning himself up. It probably would have been more fun with two, but he was far more wrecked than he wanted to really share at that moment. His backside ached, and come dripped down the back of his thighs, giving him a satisfying slutty feeling. It brought him back down to the mortal plane. He found two full rain barrels on the side of the house, opposite the goat pens, and Eliot got to work.

"Are we going to sleep in the house?" Eliot asked as Bucky approached him a few minutes later. He held a clean, damp rag out to Bucky, who took it.

"We've been sleeping outside all this time. Won't hurt us another night."

Eliot was relieved. It wasn't really the dead body that bothered him, though he wasn't especially fond of it, but the spores of mold that covered every surface, and the sad evidence of time and neglect that plagued the cottage.

After they had washed, Bucky laid out the bedroll while Eliot blew out the candles. Now, the stars and fireflies were the only light in the clearing. Eliot rested his head on Bucky's shoulder while Bucky spooned tightly around him, his right arm draped protectively over Eliot's waist. After all of that, Bucky was still half hard. How, after everything, Eliot couldn't conceive but he knew that in the half an hour since they'd ended the spell, he'd gone from feeling connected to everything to depleted and empty.

Eliot pushed back against him. "Can you just... be inside me?" The words felt thick and syrupy on his tongue. He'd let go of any shame in the spell, but back in his real life, the threat of vulnerability hung over him like a noose.

Bucky kissed the back of Eliot's neck in response. His arm shifted away for a moment, just long enough for Eliot to feel Bucky's cock enter him, and settling comfortably there before Bucky's arm rested on Eliot's hip.

With a contented sigh, bound once again to Bucky, Eliot closed his eyes. He wouldn't wake until the sun rose.

* * *

No one said that they should spend the day at the cottage and go back to Whitespire the following morning, but it went unspoken, both Eliot and Bucky in a bit of a post-spell haze. They both washed again in the daylight, having missed places they couldn't see by candlelight. Bucky procured eggs from somewhere in the forest, and managed to make breakfast in the fireplace without setting the entire ramshackled house on fire. They ate outside, both still naked, warmed by the morning sun.

"After last night, the binding should be a breeze," Bucky said mildly. 

"After last night, anything will be a breeze," Eliot replied. "I've done some complicated spells, but nothing quite so... involved."

As Bucky predicted the binding, even one strong enough to bind him to the realm, was easy compared to the spell from the night before, but wasn't _easy_. It was, however, considerably more boring, Eliot thought, as no touching was involved, but neither of them had dressed, so it at least had a good view. Eliot had never done so much magic naked. Once magic was turned on everywhere, that was going to have to change.

"How do you feel?" Eliot asked after they had completed the ritual.

"The same," Bucky replied as he walked out of the black circle. "I hope it worked. I can't go back."

Eliot wasn't so keen to leave the space of magic. He loved the way it felt, the comfort of it deep inside. He had been nothing without magic, and while it was difficult for the High King of Fillory to say he was nothing without it now, it was a comfort that the lonely kid in Indiana thrived on.

"There aren't any gods left to cast you out," he said. "I don't even know if Fillory works that way anymore. But if nothing else, maybe, it will keep those looking for you from finding you. And if they can't find you, there's nothing keeping you away from Whitespire."

"Eliot," Bucky said, warning in his tone.

"What do you even plan to do here?" Eliot asked, with an air of changing the subject, but not really wanting to.

"I'll give Abernathy a proper burial, and then make the house habitable again. I'll probably have to replace everything piece by piece, but... this is where I grew up. Where I really grew up. I want to make it a home." Bucky sighed and sat down on the grass a few feet from Eliot. "Someone has to guard this spot as long as magic is dried out. I don't mind being that weird hermit out in the woods. I think it could be good for me."

"I think it's bullshit. No one else has found the circle, not behind these illusion spells. I think you're so fucking afraid of turning into the Winter Soldier that you're going to hide in the woods instead of living a life." Eliot sat up on his knees. "You could have an amazing boyfriend, who is a goddamn king by the way, and you'd rather build a house."

Bucky's jaw tightened. "You don't get to tell me what I'm afraid of. You've known me a week. You don't know anything."

Eliot actually sat back, like he'd been slapped. "I didn't realize I had to have known you your whole life to call you out on your shit. Because it's fucking stupid. If you don't love me, that's fine, but don't stay out here because of duty or penance. We've all done bad shit, and we don't all have brainwashing as a reason for them. But if you want stay here so bad, I'll go back by myself."

He got to his feet and marched over to where he'd left his bag, his clothes stuffed hastily into it the night before. Everything was dirty, but it didn't matter. His hands shook with anger and disappointment as he pulled on his trousers. He didn't hear Bucky come up behind him, but he felt the presence of him approaching.

"Eliot," Bucky said softly. His hand came to rest on Eliot's hip. "Do you really want to fight?"

Eliot turned around. "I really want you to tell me why you won't stay with me."

Bucky stared at him for a long minute, and Eliot refused to look away. Finally, Bucky sighed, his shoulders dropping in defeat. "I am afraid. And I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting. Every step I take, it's another battle, and Whitespire is the epicenter of it. I want to stay with you, but our lives are going in different directions. I'm old and I want a quiet life. And you're a _king_."

Without thinking about it, Eliot reached out and took Bucky's hand. Bucky gripped it tightly.

"I don't want to leave you alone," Bucky said, "but I can't stay with you."

Eliot nodded. He didn't like it any better than he had a minute ago, but at least he knew now. At least he had some understanding. He pulled Bucky closer and they embraced, and Eliot couldn't have said how long they held each other, but the time, for that moment, didn't matter.

They could make the most of the time they left.

* * *

The trek back to Whitespire was essentially uneventful, though fully twice as long without horses, but neither Eliot not Bucky minded. They walked all day, pausing only for meals or the occasional fuck in the shade during the overheated afternoons. After they made camp for the night, they had sex again by the fire, before curling up together on the bedroll and forgetting they were one day closer to perhaps never seeing each other again.

The trip there had been exhausting, but now Eliot felt stronger. His thighs had a more muscular tone to them that hadn't been there before. He wasn't anywhere near Bucky's physical stamina, but it was better than before. He kind of liked it, but he doubted the gym was in his future.

On the last night before they were destined to reach Whitespire, Bucky treated Eliot to the longest, most spectacular blowjob of his life. While Eliot lay spread out naked on the ground, Bucky was knelt between his legs, working tirelessly on Eliot's cock. His tongue worked miracles, pressing gently into the slit, and his thumb just teasing at the entrance of Eliot's hole.

When Eliot came, Bucky didn't stop. He kept the flaccid dick in his mouth, as if refusing to expose it to the outside air. His hand fondled Eliot's balls until Eliot grew hard again. This went on three times, Bucky coaxing the final orgasm from Eliot's body before he crawled face-to-face with Eliot.

"Give me a second and I'll..." Eliot was worn through, but still pressed his hand toward the waistband of Bucky's trousers.

Bucky rested his hand atop Eliot's. "Don't worry about it."

Eliot raised a skeptical eyebrow. He knew Bucky had come a couple times already, but that meant nothing. He could feel Bucky's erection pressing into his thigh. 

Bucky chuckled and kissed Eliot's forehead, right at the hairline. "I don't want you to forget about me."

"Do you think that's even remotely possible?" Eliot asked. Everything was still a bit blurry and calm in his post-orgasmic haze.

"I forgot everything about myself once, and it took a long time to find my way back." Bucky's face blurred as he leaned down, resting his forehead to the side of Eliot's head. "I'm here because I can't risk it happening again. It could happen to anyone."

"And you think an amazing blowjob will help me remember?"

"No," Bucky admitted. "But I have to try."

Eliot turned his hand over so he could lace his fingers with Bucky's. They lay in silence for a few minutes before Eliot said, "I won't forget this. I promise."

After Bucky fell asleep, his solid weight a soothing presence tucked up against Eliot's body, Eliot allowed a few tears to run free, rolling hot over the bridge of his nose before dripping onto the ground.

They had sex again in the morning, the last chance they would have before privacy would become far too scarce as they approached Whitespire. The less socialized animals in the deep forest had the good sense to look the other way when they came upon two human going at it, but near the castle, they were prone to heckling. It was a relatively quick affair, Eliot taking Bucky from behind, whispering dirty nonsense in his ear. 

Though they walked as slowly as they could manage without moving backwards, Whitespire came upon them in no time at all. Eliot sighed, only the little blip of excitement at seeing Margo for the first time in nearly two weeks keeping him from turning and heading back.

Their approach must have been announced, as Margo was meeting them before they'd even entered the castle walls. She threw her arms around Eliot's neck in a quite inelegant and very un-Margo-like show of affection.

"Where the fuck have you been?" she hissed in his ear, and Eliot found that far more comforting than her hug. "You were supposed to be back a week ago!"

"The horses were stolen, it took forever," Eliot replied, as he pulled back from her embrace. He cupped her face in his hands. "Bambi."

"Asshole," she countered, but affectionately. Stepping back, she took a long look at him. "Jesus, El, you look different."

"I walked many miles and my thighs are like rocks."

Margo shook her head. "No, it's not that."

He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the appearance of Quentin behind Margo. He looked like he'd just crossed over from Earth, dressed in jeans and an oversized hoodie. His gaze was set behind Eliot. "Is that--?"

"Oh, yeah, hey, Q, this is Bucky. Bucky, this is Quentin." Eliot grinned. "Bucky and I brought some magic."

"Nice to meet you," Bucky said, as he stepped up next to Eliot.

Quentin didn't say anything, definitely not registering the bit about magic, for a full ten seconds, his mouth agape. "How is he in _Fillory_?"

"That, my friend, is a long story. Let's go inside and have a drink." Eliot clapped Quentin on the shoulder as the four of them paraded into the castle.

It started with a bath, a steamy soak that was nothing compared to the splendor of the hot spring, but gave Eliot an opportunity to properly clean himself for the first time in two weeks. He dressed, not in his casual traveling clothes, but in one of his custom brocade suits, in a shade of dark cranberry with a cream colored ascot. He retrieved his crown from his bag and placed it on his head. It was no heavier now.

After both Eliot and Bucky were clean, they joined Margo and Quentin for a feast. It was really just lunch, but after spending two weeks living on dried meat and stale bread, the freshly cooked venison and roasted vegetables, with a salad of strange Filliorian greens was an overwhelming feast for Eliot and Bucky. Between bites, they talked about their journey, while Quentin interrupted periodically to ask questions.

"There's a magically consecrated hot spot in the middle of the forest? How did we not know about this?"

"I'm sure no one thought anything of it when magic was freely available," Eliot replied. "And this Abernathy guy sounds like a real recluse, save for stealing strange Earth boys out of the forest."

"We weren't stolen," Bucky said, looking at Eliot. "We were lost."

Quentin held up his hands to stop them. "Okay, tell me about this spell."

An awkward silence fell across the table as Bucky and Eliot looked each other. Bucky's mouth opened halfway and then closed, before he busied himself with a large forkful of yams.

Eliot smiled as serenely as possible. "It's cooperative magic and while the the mechanics are relatively simple, it requires sustained energy for a long period of time. It's not just connecting to magic at the source, it's the act of pulling it from within. And containing it."

"The magic we gathered, it's not going to change the world in the long term, but it could help you with your quest," Bucky added.

Throughout all of lunch, Margo never said a word, but Eliot was keenly aware of her eye on himself and Bucky. She knew him far too well.

After they had eaten, both Bucky and Eliot a bit sick with overindulgence, Bucky showed Quentin how to use the spheres. Margo and Eliot stood off to the side, watching them. It was almost like a comedy show, Quentin over excited and giddy with the possibilities, while Bucky calmly answered his questions.

"So, you fucked him, huh?" Margo asked.

"Many times." Eliot knew he'd be giving her all the gritty details later. Okay, maybe not _all_ of them, leaving a few things for himself, but she was going to get most of it. He always told her everything, and this was no different.

"Did you fall in love with him?"

Eliot wanted to lie. Not because he didn't want Margo to know, but maybe if he said it wasn't true, it wouldn't be, and watching Bucky leave would be easier. If he tried, however, she'd see right through him. She may have only had one eye, but she saw everything. "Yes."

Margo made an affirmative noise, a smug little sound of her being right. "And did you get any word on Captain America?"

He turned his gaze from Bucky and Quentin to look at her. "Completely bi."

"I knew it! Those homophobic dickwads can suck it."

Eliot wrapped his arm around Margo's shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "I missed you."

She leaned against him and replied, "Yeah, but you got to have a sex romp with Bucky Barnes. We literally live in a fantasy world. I'm glad it finally lived up to the fucking hype."

He laughed, which garnered him a glance and a smile from Bucky, but as soon as Bucky looked back to the spheres, Eliot sobered. "He's not staying. He's going back to protect that little plot of magic."

"Fuck, El, I'm sorry." Her arm snaked around his waist.

"I honestly thought about staying with him, but it's not skipping Ibiza for a boyfriend, it's my entire life. I couldn't leave you alone with all of this." Eliot squeezed her. "It's my fucking responsibility."

"Ugh, when did we get to be such grown-ups?" Margo asked.

"I don't know, it's the worst." But there was a part of Eliot that knew he wouldn't have done any of this if he hadn't grown up.

* * *

It wasn't difficult for Eliot to convince Bucky to stay the night. Just the night, so he could leave in the morning and have a full day before he needed to stop. The bed was too soft, so they had sex on the floor, and slept there together with several large, fluffy blankets wrapped around them.

"Are you all packed up?" Eliot asked the next morning as he and Bucky walked outside where one of the stable boys had a horse waiting. "Your food? Supplies? You didn't let them pick a horse for you, did you? This is a gift from the kingdom and they'll give you the asshole horses."

Bucky laughed. "No, I picked my own. I had a few of the horses trying to convince me to take them." He paused. "I think one was coming on to me. I didn't choose that one."

Eliot stepped closer to Bucky and bumped their shoulders together. "You _do_ remember what Fillory is like, right?"

"They didn't do that when I was twelve."

This time, Eliot laughed, but it faded quickly into a saddened silence. He took Bucky's hand. "I'm going to miss you."

"Eliot," Bucky said, before kissing him. Eliot squeezed Bucky's hand, and tried to remember every detail of this moment. The warm breeze that blew Bucky's hair against his cheek, and the smell of his skin, and the way his hand tightened around Eliot's until it almost hurt.

"You drop me a bunny if you need anything," Eliot said, not pulling away completely. "Food, supplies, anything. I'll send it out."

Bucky released Eliot's hand so he could cup his cheek. "If you need me, if you need firepower, you get me, you understand?"

Eliot nodded. There was so much he wanted to say, and he was so deeply incapable of saying it. He took a deep breath, feeling the threat of tears, but pushing them back. "I... I wish you a life of peace."

The corner of Bucky's mouth twitched, like he might laugh or cry, but he did neither. He kissed Eliot one more time, and before he could stay anything, he pulled away and started for the horse. He didn't look back until he'd already mounted and was a few yards away.

As they took one last look, Eliot had a feeling this wasn't goodbye. It was for now. He could deal with for now.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to thinkatory for beta reading.


End file.
